


Without Spectators

by IdlePace



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 10:59:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2148201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdlePace/pseuds/IdlePace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They know their cue words, they know where to meet, but most of all, they know each other all too well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Spectators

“Can you help me pick out a pair of shoes?”

Their well-worn cue spilled from the over bitten lips, spinning and catching the needed attention of the cohort. Skin crinkled at the corners of his eyes, too used to folding with his expansive smiles. His long arms stretched as he stood from his glittering vanity, holding back his need to primp one final time before his face entered into the rowdy bustle.

There was no need for coaxing fingers or further words, both knew their goal forwards and back, circling around their minds even in their sleep. Steps timed with the muffled music stomping confidently, asserting the impossibly detailed straps with colourful stitches, rhinestones and varied textures. Any other pair of feet would never be able to pull off such a fashion clutter, but the tan hair covered foot bent proudly with the adornment.

The graceful gazelle of a man played along with his smile, following his predator through embedded volition. Neither cared if their escapades were uncovered and knowing the gossip that happened between shows they wouldn’t doubt it if every dancer did indeed know.

A dump of clothes, broken accessories and large props huddled in the partitioned off corner was discreet enough. They had no shame but gave no free shows, though they sometimes did entertain the thought between them what a charge would be if they could get pass the laughs.

Short rounds of playful pushes and tossing discarded costumes always came before the rediscovery of hot flesh. Long fingers and strong hands would trade sides to explore the body they wanted to pull closer. Dry skin acquired sweat as the anxious hands slipped around, rubbing in circles and lowering after small rotations.

“Sips…” The over responsive man would always whine as the small strings of elastic infused fabric on his hips were snapped. His letters fused into a hiss, loving how easily he could mold the man’s name, maybe even more than how much he treasured the reaction he saw his noises stirred.

Pushing resurfaced as both mixed their intimacy with breathless jests. The one who laughed the longest always felt the ignition as their lips repositioned with the other pair, too slow to respond with the next joke. Progressing with eased relaxation bodies moved on their own, jerking and winding up to bang together.

The pair tried not to collapse into the disarray, feeling the ends of feathers and sharp edges of sequins already pushing them away. Another clash of greedy bodies hit the age old broken standing stage light, shaking off a slow rain of dust. Cheap plastic heels threatened to crack and twist under the pressured feet, with straps stretching wildly to accommodate.

Friction drew their breathing to pick up in pace. So much exposed skin in the daily routines, days’ work, shared lives, seeing the other actually wearing clothing seemed, wrong. They continuously thirsted for their visual buffet, satisfying their every deep breath to relearn each garnishing detail.

Hands crawled faster than their minds, needing to find the sensation and lead it back to every nerve in their solid form. They were pushed roughly along each appendage and the connecting torso, savouring certain rounded parts for fierce squeezing and other places scattered with hair for warm rubbing.

Tongues sprang from mouths to slip along less damp areas, acquiring the taste of salt enriched sweat and chemically floral baby oils. They slurped sloppily as they reached tense muscles, nipping and gumming to sooth.

“I want to spoil you Sjin.” The husky voice droned, using his overzealous hand to push at the collection of chest hair, making the area less busy for his mouth to find the perky nipple. He used the high pitch crack of a response as plea for him to continue. He sucked and scraped using his trained teeth, letting his tongue flick to keep the gesture to be tender as the muscles in his mouth drew back, pulling the nerve bundled skin with him.

Knees knocked the scuffed board floor, sinking the man’s height even lower than his usual compared to his colleague. Another snap of the slim fabric was a tease, a playful gesture to show his commitment to his words. Gentle kisses were placed on the smooth knee caps as hands let the fingers walk up the backs of the legs, cupping at the virtually bare cheeks.

Urgent shuffles pulled the only confining fabric away, dropping it to loop lifelessly around the shimmering shoes. It was hands that first made contact with the body in its fully exposed state, massaging just below the hips before pulling fingers forward.

“Sips!”

“Sjin…”

Even in their tucked away state of intimacy they never lost their desire to mock one another, using each extended hiss in their names to hush the other.

Lips were cruel when they first silently pecked at the heated tender flesh, pushing no farther than to breathe hollowly open in preparation. Though the receiving man made no impulse to quicken the act the sounds he spilled were murmured spun poetry, overly praising each twitch and aspect of the man before him.

Fingers seemed to make it their job to dive in first as they dawdled up the active genitalia. Their movement was barely a touch, a hover to merely make their presence known. Eyes connected as both waited for something to be said about the brushing contact, but words were beginning to emit unprocessed, merely announcing sounds. 

Firmer hands blanketed around the arousal, smoothing along almost pulling it forward. Arms wished they reached far enough to grab at the sculpted beard above them, to bring in a sealing kiss but fell inches short fathoming at the height of the man.

Encouraging sounds once again gurgled from the recipient as his own fingers struggled to find something to dig into. His minor shivers shifted his stance as each new spark brought him to gulp at the thick warm air. He breathed as if he had never learned to, slouching forward with each painful lungful. His head repeatedly nodded in a lull as he rocked his upper half to keep the rest still. The soft puffs of air at his groin forced his stomach to strain as the dry air coated his skin.

The hands still pulled as if they wanted conceal rather than tempt the tipping orgasm, ringing slackly to slide back and forth. Fingers broke apart to slip around to the underside, stroking lighter each time until eventually lifting away, leaving a ghosting existence in their wake.

His kneeling position was adjusted as he cleared his throat, pressing lips firmly together to drink back saliva. Stretching the jaw wide taking a large taste of air his head drifted forward, letting his guideless mouth guzzle the readied dick. The instinctive convulsion of gluttonous hips was prepared for as hands flew to keep them in place, gently squeezing to reaffirm a hold.

When the flushed body grew accustomed to the encasing damp mouth the hands skated down to bring attention to the skin the mouth could not fully extend to. Muscles clenched and constricted in the back of the pleasing throat, throwing a tantrum to maintain control as the nose snivelled for every breath.

“S-Sipsy…” The voice above squeaked as every part in his body became less important than his vibrating middle. The lone tongue that licked around as if savouring a summer time treat worked slow, buzzing every nerve to give the throat time to relax. The stillness was cut short as lips plunged back into place, immediately followed by the ravenous petting hands.

The towering man’s head bounced slowly in reverse as his Adam’s apple jostled in place. He gasped for air as his head fully craned back, trying to force his legs to halt their shaking. Blazing heat concentrated to his tended to spot, compelling his spine to curve back along with his head, lifting his hips ever higher. His own desperate hands gripped at the base of his skull, pressing deep into the skin as he felt his eyelids struggle to remain open.

Another extended sluggish glide of the enticing mouth begot the peak of the moment as the fleeting silence let every registering cell feel the crash of the build. Hips mechanically shoved between the lips again to savour the aftermath. The receiving ends had switched as the man below sputtered and pulled away, spitting out the bitter substance as he let the rest paint the side of his face.

Both took their time to recover, blubbing for their minds to calm. It was the tallest man with a hum reply to break the patterned breathing, reaching behind to grasp at any sort of soft fabric to hand the other. The splattered man coughed, accepting the material with a sticky grin.

“The blue ones,” The bearded man started, “I’d say you should wear the blue boots, they look the best on you.” He bent to pull the tired man up by his shoulders, smacking a kiss to his shoddily cleaned cheek.

Shimmying back up the scant clothing piece he secured it in place before checking to see if his dazzling heels had survived the encounter. “And expect a treat for when we get home.”

“A treat..?” The broader man snickered, tossing the make shift rag back into the pile of forgotten materials.

“Dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“And of course desert.”

“Well of course…” He flashed a grin, setting his hands back to the proud hips before him, “There always needs to be seconds.”


End file.
